


Beg Me To Stay

by ashapoop



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Break Up, Brief Makkachin, Heavy Angst, M/M, Men Crying, Mental Breakdown, Overworking, Sad Ending, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 19:32:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11766855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashapoop/pseuds/ashapoop
Summary: The man was killing himself for the ice. His hours were too long and he ate so little, exerting himself to the point that he fell time and time again. Despite protests of everyone in the rink, he waved them off with a heart shaped smile that began to lose its color, laughing about how silly everyone was being. But Yuuri knew the sadness in his eyes, the doubt as he dug his nails into his palms, the twitching of his jaw when he miscalculated a jump. It was Victor losing himself to the image he needed to live up to, unable to focus on his present self as he obsessed over who he’d be in three months time. He was like a phoenix, expecting to emerge beautiful and new once he finally ignited, but Victor was not a phoenix, but just a man.





	Beg Me To Stay

**Author's Note:**

> If you use [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/1245901102/playlist/0pURGQfFvpUeENdlWYXk9a), I made a sort of playlist that I used to write and I feel it fits Yuuri's thoughts pretty well.

For the fifth time that week, Yuuri Katsuki woke up alone in the bed he shared with his fiancee, hands searching for a warmth that had been long gone. He sat up slowly, body still aching from the previous day’s practice, and grabbed his glasses off the side table before taking a breath. He hadn’t woken up next to Victor in almost a week now, and he wanted nothing more than to see that messy hair and crooked smile that always lit up his tired eyes. It was almost as if he was still in Hasetsu, waking up alone to the sound of the seagulls outside that the older man had talked wistfully of two years ago. It was lonely. 

  


After saying a quick goodbye to Makkachin as he left their apartment with a ruffle of his fur, Yuuri began his jog to the all too familiar ice rink that he’d be able to reach with his eyes closed. The air was cool, an early chill that always made jogging comfortable. He’d keep up his pace at crosswalks at paused movements, making it to the rink only ten minutes after he began. The doors were, of course, unlocked, even at such an early time where the sun was hardly above the horizon. Yuuri hesitated as he reached for the door’s handle, not totally sure he wanted to see what was inside, but pushed after a moment. 

  


He remained in the shadows of the building as he walked towards the rink, letting his ear buds curl around his neck loosely. The sound of steel on ice was calming, audible even as the Japanese man caught his breath. Almost too cautiously, Yuuri let his back fall against the wall as to not even give the man on the ice a thought of him being there watching him. He would step in to stop him, to talk to him, to make his presence known, but not yet. 

  


While Yuuri had grown used to the idea of Victor as someone beyond just his idol, he was still always trying to catch a glimpse of him on the ice, a delicious blend of awe and nostalgia that made his own heart beat that much faster. Every morning that Victor was on the rink for however long before Yuuri arrived, the Japanese man couldn’t deny himself this small indulgence. Victor Nikiforov was beautiful, able to move his body and lift himself into the air with such ease that it’s as if the gods picked him up with their own hands only to set him down so softly, the man commandeering a grace that couldn’t be human. After all these years, the man never failed to surprise him, always having a trick up his sleeve that Yuuri knew he spent months coming up with. It didn’t matter, though, it was still always the most beautiful thing that he could ever witness, something that made his heart thump and his breath short. He gave his soul to the ice, he _belonged_ to the ice, as if the two were one. 

  


Sometimes it transcended beauty. Sometimes it elicited fear. 

  


Victor’s determination to prove himself in his return to the ice started off as endearing. The hours he spent in a day only ceased when he knew he had to return to Makkachin and give him meals, already having the promise of Yuuri at the rink by his side. He woke up before the sun and slept only hours at a time and Yuuri waited for it to stop, for Victor to come home even when Yuuri told him he was leaving, yet Victor didn’t come. The nights he did come home were only when Yuuri was only moments away from sleep when he felt the familiar figure crawl into bed, the Japanese man choking back tears at how happy he was to have Victor with him, even if he knew it’d only be the moments before they both were taken by sleep. 

  


The man was killing himself for the ice. His hours were too long and he ate so little, exerting himself to the point that he fell time and time again. Despite protests of everyone in the rink, he waved them off with a heart shaped smile that began to lose its color, laughing about how silly everyone was being. But Yuuri knew the sadness in his eyes, the doubt as he dug his nails into his palms, the twitching of his jaw when he miscalculated a jump. It was Victor losing himself to the image he needed to live up to, unable to focus on his present self as he obsessed over who he’d be in three months time. He was like a phoenix, expecting to emerge beautiful and new once he finally ignited, but Victor was not a phoenix, but just a man. 

  


“Victor,” he said quietly, mostly to himself as he watched the man stop to take a long drink from his water bottle.

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, waving his lover over. “You’re early today.”

“I couldn’t fall back asleep,” he lied. “So I decided to come here. It’s… it’s lonely at the apartment when you’re not there.” 

  


It almost hurt to watch Victor react to Yuuri’s words, a sadness reaching his eyes that Yuuri hated himself for placing there. Guilt twisted in his gut as he watched the tensing of the man’s shoulders, chastising himself for saying words that he knew would evoke a reaction like this. He couldn’t look into those sad eyes, Yuuri’s gaze jumping to the ring shining on Victor’s hand. The glare of the lights bouncing off of it was almost mockery, as if the rink was the one to be bound to Victor forever, not him. Perhaps that may be so. 

  


“I’m sorry, myshka, I just know that I need to get these jumps into the second half of my program. I don’t have the stamina as you do, especially at this age,” he teased.

“You’re 29, not 100.”

“In this sport, there’s no difference. So, shall we start your practice early? Then you can hopefully get some more sleep tonight.” 

  


Yuuri forced a smile onto his face and held Victor’s face in his hand, letting out a soft laugh as the pale man leaned into the touch. He was so beautiful that it hurt to look for too long, so human that it only hurt to watch him do this to himself. 

  


“Only if you go home when I do,” Yuuri said. “Only if you can sleep as much as I’ll get to.” 

  


The twitch in Victor’s eyebrow was something Yuuri couldn’t miss, an action of surprise that Victor could never hide no matter how hard he practiced when someone brought it to his attention. Yuuri’s gaze was steady, trying to show to his fiancee how serious he was, but he was met with a closed off eye. Victor muttered a confirmation before twisting his head to kiss Yuuri’s palm before skating off and the Japanese man closed his eyes as he took a shaky breath, knowing how much of a lie his words were. Still, though, he sat down on the bench behind him and tied his skates on, tears pricking his eyes as he saw Victor’s smile once they were both on the ice. 

  


As the two skated, Yuuri found himself lost in his own head. He wanted so badly to take Victor by the shoulders, tell him that he couldn’t continue like he was, even though everyone knew it would remain like this until the Grand Prix Final, probably extend beyond that. Yuuri often saw Victor as a god of the ice, but even a god could only take so much. The living legend of Russia was crumbling slowly but surely, the bruises on his skin only growing larger, the sincerity in his laugh only dissipating. Victor was a perfectionist through and through and his biggest competitor was himself. He wanted the man to come home, he wanted the man to rest, he wanted the man to be who he was before his aspirations grabbed him by the ankles and pulled him twenty feet under. 

  


“Victor,” Yuuri started before taking a slow breath, gathering his thoughts. “Victor, I want an off day.”

“Oh,” the man blinked in response, putting a finger to his mouth before smiling. “Well, why not? You’ve been working so hard, your programs are going well so far. You can have a day off.”

“No. No, I… I worded that wrong. I want the both of us to have a day off. Together. We could go to the beach with Makkachin. Or go to lunch to the new place downtown I know you’ve been looking up reviews for on water breaks. Oh! Maybe we can--.”

“Yuuri,” he interjected. “I know you mean well and I love that you’re doing so but I can’t take a day off like you can. I have so much to catch up on, getting back to who I was two years ago. While the time I spend each day coaching you helps, I need the time before and after to really reach that point.” 

  


The words struck a nerve inside Yuuri that he hadn’t expected, causing a twist of his stomach and a shaky breath to pass his lips. Of course Victor needed his practice time, but he wasn’t getting enough of it when he also had to coach Yuuri, spend countless hours pouring over his student and fiancee, before getting himself in the right mindset to coach himself. It was then that Yuuri knew the solution, knew the way that he could save Victor Nikiforov. It was the one thing he never wanted to consider, the one thing he’d rather die than do. But to save Victor, Yuuri Katsuki would smile in the face of death. 

  


“I’m sorry,” Victor rushed, seemingly taking in Yuuri’s expression. “After… after the Grand Prix Final, things will be better. I swear.”

“Okay,” Yuuri replied, forcing a smile onto his shaking lips. “But what makes you so confident you’ll get to the top six?”

“Oh, cruel Yuuri,” he laughed. “You’re breaking my heart!” 

  


Not yet, Yuuri thought as he kept that stupid smile on his face, shaking his head. Not yet. 

  


When Victor chased Yuuri off the ice that night, the man didn’t fight back like he usually did. Victor puckered his lips as he leaned over the railing, wanting a departing kiss that Yuuri gave too easily, holding the Russian’s face in his hands as he deepened the kiss. He let passion and love infiltrate, let his lips move slow as Victor let out a noise of surprise before, too, pulling Yuuri closer. It wasn’t until they both physically needed air that Victor pulled away with a low whistle before smiling so brightly that Yuuri felt the need to shield his eyes. 

  


“I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

  


As Yuuri sat alone in the apartment that night, he pushed his microwaved peas across his plate this way and that. Makkachin whined from underneath the table at the unsettling sound of the scraping fork but Yuuri hardly heard him. He had been sitting at the table for over an hour, legs numb from a lack of movement and back slouched in a way that Victor would correct instantly. Victor wasn’t there, though. He hadn’t been there in such a long time that Yuuri was beginning to forget how they’d dance as their dinners heated up in the stove, their interlocked fingers as they dozed before the small TV whilst laying on the couch, the competitions they had sliding down the hallway in just their socks and underwear as they laughed until they couldn’t breathe. Those memories were so far away that Yuuri couldn’t think of how to reel them back in, bring them back so that he was living in a reality he had once thought of as perfect. All that came now was a painful longing as Yuuri tried to hold back tears that Victor used to wipe away. He had spent so many nights crying for himself, for Victor, that he hardly felt drops anymore. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen, this wasn’t how their life was supposed to carry on to. Victor had said he would return under Yakov’s wing, not become his own coach. He had promised he would keep himself safe and healthy, but now he wore his worn down fragility like a broken crown. 

  


Yuuri had to save the man he loved. 

  


The hours passed as Yuuri continued to sit at the table, staring at the small crack in the corner of the wooden table as if willing it to grow. He had grown completely numb, unable to even think as he was heavy with sorrow and exhaustion. His fingers loosened and his fork clattered loudly against the plate, causing the poodle curled around his feet to jump. Yuuri had no idea what time it was when he heard Victor’s key turning the clock, unable to muster the energy to turn his head and see his lover. He could only stare ahead, a victim to his own mind as he was lost in his plans, his selfish impulses, his fear. 

  


“Yuuri, what are you doing up still?” Victor asked as he pulled off his shoes and placed them next to the door. “Myshka? Are you alright?” 

  


Yuuri closed his eyes and took a slow breath at the sound of Victor coming closer, his hands resting on his shoulders before sliding down his biceps. He tried to feel the warmth, the feather like touches, but there was nothing there. All Yuuri wanted was to feel those hands for what might be the last time and it brought a prick to his eye that it was if he were made of stone. He wanted to turn around, pull Victor into a kiss, tend to the bruises that he’d watched bloom in his own practice, but instead he was stationary. 

  


“Let’s get you to bed,” Victor whispered after a long moment, hands moving to slowly pull the chair back. 

  


Yuuri opened his eyes as he felt Victor’s warm breath against his skin, seeing Victor only inches away. He studied the furrow of the man’s brows, one he loved to smooth out with the pad of his index finger, now only able to try and mentally will it away. Those azure eyes were pools of concern that caused Yuuri’s heart to ache and mouth to twitch. He wanted to tell Victor that he was okay, that they were going to be okay, but the lie was like poison on his tongue. It was all too much, having the love of his life so close, and Yuuri only shut his eyes once again. He heard Victor’s soft sigh, felt his arms pull him up to rest against his chest, until he was laid down gently onto their bed. He opened his eyes once again, seeing Victor standing at the edge of the bed, watching him with concern, the discoloration of his eyes prominent. He was so _tired_. 

  


“Yuuri, w--?”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri whispered, hardly able to find the breath in his lungs to utter the words. “Victor… I-I’m sorry.” 

  


The tears that Yuuri had shed earlier that evening returned with a vengeance and the Japanese man curled in on himself, releasing wet sobs that caused his chest to ache and his head to spin. Victor let out a sharp exhale before he was on the bed in the next moment, pulling Yuuri into a sitting position and Yuuri moved willingly and thankfully, curling his hands in Victor’s soft shirt and crying into his chest. Victor worked at smoothing Yuuri’s hair, silently rocking them both as sorrow filled every corner of the room. Every inch of Yuuri ached and he needed to be closer to Victor, take this last selfish indulgence before it was all over. He climbed into Victor’s lap, letting out another sob as Victor held his thigh in comfort, fingertips dancing across his pant fabric. Yuuri Katsuki had never deserved the attention of Victor Nikiforov and certainly not the love. He never had, and he knew that he never would for as long as he lived. 

  


“I’m sorry,” he said again, balling Victor’s shirt in his fists tightly.

“It’s alright, myshka. It’s alright, I promise. I’ve got you now.”

“I-I... “

“Shh,” Victor hummed, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his lover’s head. “Let’s sleep now. It’ll all be better tomorrow.” 

  


As the two got under the comforter, Yuuri curled into Victor’s open arms so selfishly, wanting to live in his atmosphere for the last couple hours he would be able to. He let his shaking fingers trace the wrinkles of his fiance’s striped shirt, one that was so worn to Victor’s shape. After a couple moments, Yuuri craved something more and let his fingers go further down until his hand slipped underneath the comfortable shirt, tracing the planes of Victor’s front as a small breath filled the room, the older man surprised at the contact. Yuuri ignored him and let his palm rest flat against the expanse of skin, slowly curling up and just feeling Victor exist beneath his fingers was almost enough. 

  


Yuuri pulled himself back from Victor’s hold and found those blue eyes easily in the moonlight, watching him with the same concern but there was another emotion found in a twinkle, something like love. The Japanese man smiled softly, throat tightening as his hand moved to cradle his jaw, thumb brushing along the smooth, fair skin. Victor closed his eyes and Yuuri bit his lip as to not tell him to open them once again, wanting nothing more than to get lost in them again and again, deep waters that were alluring rather than horrifying. Yuuri took a slow breath as his hand slid down Victor’s jaw and neck until finally settling on the man’s heart, steady then stuttering before Victor opened his eyes again and Yuuri was gone. 

  


“Just when I think I have you figured out,” Victor murmured, his own hand running through Yuuri’s mess of hair. “You surprise me.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“It’s perfect.” 

  


Yuuri wasn’t sure who moved first, but he didn’t care as soon as he felt the pressure of Victor’s lips against his own. He ran a hand through Victor’s locks as his lips moved slowly, easily, and he could feel his lover’s smile. It was so easy to get lost in Victor, a trait both beautiful and dangerous. Yuuri let a smile cross his lips as well before moving closer to Victor, lips moving harder as he felt all of his emotions creeping up on him, never too far from the front of his mind. There was nothing but a fire of raw passion between the two, Victor eagerly chasing Yuuri’s movement before rolling them over. Victor let out a breathless laugh as he glanced down at his love, but Yuuri was silent, only surging forward to kiss him once again. The taste of Victor was something he wanted imprinted on his brain, soaked into all of his senses, carved into his heart forever, and only tonight could he do so. As his tongue swept easily across Victor’s bottom lip, the silver haired man slowly pulled away rather than reciprocating, causing a small whine to pass Yuuri’s own lips. 

  


“Yuuri,” he chuckled quietly, fingers brushing his cheekbone. “Why do you kiss me like you’re saying goodbye, moya lyubov?” 

  


For a moment, Yuuri’s heart stopped. Victor’s words rang in his ears again and again, making his head spin that much more. It made Yuuri wonder the same thing. The man above him, with eyes like the skies and a heart bigger than a bowl of katsudon, was someone that was one in a million. Yuuri Katsuki would spend the rest of his life being called the man who let Victor Nikiforov go and how could he stand to bear that cross? He had never known what love could really feel like before Victor, regardless of who it was towards. This man broke down his walls with a smile that Yuuri dreamed about and took him by the hand to guide him through the things he feared the most. How could he possibly let that go? 

  


And then Yuuri saw the bruise along Victor’s jawline, almost minute but only one of so many, and he knew that he couldn’t be selfish any longer. What he was doing was for Victor, no matter how much it would hurt him. They were soulmates, but Yuuri couldn’t let the man continue on like this. Not when he could ease even a bit of the pain that would hang over Victor’s head for the rest of his life. Yuuri was replaceable, but Victor’s health was not. 

  


“That’s silly,” Yuuri replied, shaking his head before letting his hand rest over Victor’s. “I’m not doing that at all.”

“Yuuri…” he said with a doubtful expression.

“I love you, now let me kiss you.” 

  


Victor’s face melted into a smile at Yuuri’s word and as he let their lips reconnect, it felt like a knife twisting in his gut rather than a victory. Yuuri let his lips travel to Victor’s forehead, eyelids, nose, chin, and then mouth, wanting to remember the feel of his skin, wanting to remember Victor’s shaking laughter as Yuui worked. When he pressed one last kiss to his lover’s lips, he wanted to show everything he’d ever felt. Every drop of love, adoration, gratefulness… he wanted to express his side of their story in one kiss. And when Victor pulled away, eyes pooling with love and adoration, Yuuri had to look away. He didn’t deserve to be looked at in such a way, not when he was a monster. As Victor fell back onto his side, pulling Yuuri close to him and burying his face in the man’s hair, the Japanese man prayed all his tears fell onto the pillow instead of the Russian’s arm. 

  


When Yuuri woke up the next morning in a daze, he found himself reaching for nothing once again. He rolled over and looked at the empty space there, the imprint of his body in the sheets and the carefully replaced comforter when he left the bed. Yuuri reached out and laughed quietly to himself as he ran his fingers over Victor’s pillow, finding a hair there. Any other day, he would send a photo to the man himself with a teasing caption but this morning he simply looked before placing it down just as carefully as he picked it up. He didn’t deserve to touch even a hair on Victor’s head, not now. 

  


Throughout their relationship, Yuuri had always been the one who received. Victor flew from another continent because he believed in what Yuuri could do. He put his career on a hold just to help him. He molded Yuuri into the man he was today, strong and no longer afraid. Victor Nikiforov was a gift from the gods, a ray of sunlight that never went out no matter what he was feeling. But if Victor kept giving the way he had time and time again, it would hurt him. He would self destruct, unable to see how his selflessness affected him. For once, Yuuri was the one who needed to give, and for that it meant giving up. 

  


As the day progressed, Yuuri found himself feeling that weight of depression looming on his shoulders, only getting more and more heavy. He tried to busy himself and clean the apartment, top to bottom, for the reason that he later realized to be wiping the evidence that he had ever been there. He packed all his clothes and mementos away into suitcases tucked away in the complex’s basement, only needing to be pulled out during competitions. When Makkachin padded after him with each room he flitted to, the sound of his clinking tags sent Yuuri into tears that he had held back all morning. The poodle was too happy to be held, too eager to try and help his newfound father feel better and the thought only made Yuuri cry harder. His fingers brushed through the rough curls, mentally begging for Makkachin to end all of this for him, to make everything go back to how it was only months ago. He didn’t want to do this, he _couldn’t_ do this, both for Victor and himself. 

  


“Please, Makka,” he whimpered, a wave of nausea coursing through him like a warning. “I love him. I love him so much.” 

  


The sound of keys in the lock made Yuuri catch his breath as he pulled away from Makkachin quickly, pushing himself up onto his numb feet. His heart was racing, the blood pumping in his ears, and the tears that were coming so freely had stopped. There was no emotion that Yuuri was feeling, he was only numb. He thought he had more time, more time to pretend like everything was going to be okay for just a minute longer, but now it was all coming to an end. Yuuri desperately wished he could do something, anything. He wished he could punch a wall, let out another tear, end more than just this relationship, but there was nothing inside of him to do what he wanted. He had become the shell of a man just at the sound of jingling keys and at this point he deserved it. Still he stood in the kitchen, eyes unblinking as he watched the door open, and when he saw Victor’s face he felt everything at once. 

  


“Yuuri! I decided since you took today off and I have plenty of time that I would come home for lunch! You were suggesting the place downtown and I think that that would be just--!” 

  


Victor’s voice stopped quickly once he had shed his jacket and shoes and saw all the suitcases in the living room. Yuuri watched as Victor’s stance changed so rapidly from relaxed to tense, his back ramrod straight, before they met eyes. There was a lost sort of hope in his eyes as he watched Yuuri, glancing over his frame for a moment before his gaze shifted to one much darker. The steps that Victor took mimed those he took in the airport so long ago, desperate to get to Yuuri, and his eyes held the same emotion. Yuuri swallowed thickly, glancing down at his shoes, tied up tight as if he could walk out the door at any moment. 

  


“Yuuri,” he said softly, a hint of a laugh in his voice. “What is all this?”

“I-- what?”

“We can’t just leave now, myshka. We have so much training to do still, only a few more months. After that, I promise we can go on vacation, alright? To Hasetsu or to a beach or…”

“Victor,” Yuuri said, tone heavy as he realized he’d have to tell Victor the truth. It was so much harder this way, with him assuming he wanted them to be whisked away together. He did. “Victor… I’m leaving.” 

  


The words hit Victor like a train, and Yuuri watched as, for once, he was speechless. His eyes were wide, like a deer in the headlights, and his hands began to fidget. His lips trembled and Yuuri wanted to kiss the motion away, to make this pain disappear. He wanted to save Victor Nikiforov in a way that he couldn’t. 

  


“Wh-What?” Victor asked in a way that made him sound so small. “You’re… do you need space? Where are you going? To… to stay with Yurio?”

“No. I… I’m going home.”

“But Yuuri, you _are_ home.” 

  


Yuuri didn’t expect those words to hit as hard as they did, and when his eyes burned, he quickly looked back down at his feet, biting his lip to the point that he tasted blood to keep himself together. Victor was right, this was his home. He had never imagined before moving to Russia that home would be somewhere without Victor, he adored the family that had found him. But here he was, returning back to a house that had once been his, one that he didn’t want to be in without Victor. 

  


“No,” he lied. “Hasetsu. That’s my home.”

“Yuuri. Please… without you, this isn’t my home. Without you…. These are just walls. You’re… _you’re_ my home. Please don’t go.”

“Victor... “

“What do you need me to do? Anything you need me to do, I’ll do it without a second thought or regret. I will do anything to keep you here with me. So what is it? Do you want me to quit skating? Done. Do you want me to give you more space? Consider me at Yurio’s house until the weekend. Do you need me to stop _talking_? I’ll cut my vocal chords in a heartbeat.”

“Victor! Victor, stop. You… you can’t fix this. I’m leaving and you need to let me.”

“At least look at me.”

“Victor, I--.”

“ _Look at me._ ” 

  


It took all his strength to raise his head, look at the damage that he was creating, and Yuuri regretted it the moment he saw the tears clinging to Victor’s eyelashes. He was exactly how Yuuri imagined, his jaw taut and the tip of his nose a bright red. It made the Japanese man want to die, knowing that he was the cause of all of this. His own heart was hardly beating, exactly what he deserved. It was as if they had both gone back in time to the hotel in Barcelona when Yuuri expressed his desire to _end this_. Never had Yuuri thought he’d be back in the same spot, making Victor cry tears that should never have been shed. He never thought he’d have to see the look of devastation and betrayal in those beautiful eyes. The man before him was someone Yuuri hardly recognized, someone who had stolen all the light that was forever illuminated inside VIctor Nikiforov. 

  


“I want you to look at me when I say this,” Victor said after a moment, sniffling in a way that sounded anything but pitiful. “Katsuki Yuuri, I love you. I am in love with you and I love you more with every day that passes. I _dream_ about when we get another ring on our fingers and I get to hyphenate my last name so everyone in this damn world knows that we love each other. You are… you are my heart. You are the thing that keeps me going when I am down on myself. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you and I don’t think I can heal from losing you. Please… please, Yuuri. I need you. Please just… just tell me what you need. I’ll give it to you. For you, I could do anything. I _would_ do anything. I swear on my own life.” 

  


Every time that Victor paused with a silent curse or to catch his breath as he tried to keep his tears from his eyes, Yuuri felt another piece of him cracking and falling to the ground between them. There was nothing more he wanted than to pull Victor into his arms and tell him how much he loved him, how much he needed him, how sorry he was that this conversation happened at all. He wanted to tell him about his dreams for them in the future, wedding bands and tuxes, babies and travelling, more dogs and even more kisses. He wanted to stay, more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life, but he wanted Victor safe even more. And maybe it wasn’t his choice for what Victor did, suddenly becoming a coach and competitor all under the same name, but it was Yuuri’s choice to try and protect the man he loved. Even if it destroyed the both of them, leaving a trail of fire for years to come, it was worth it if Victor was safe. 

  


“Victor,” Yuuri whispered, watching as the man twitched at the sound of his own name, watching with a hope that Yuuri shouldn't have been allowed to ever see. “I… I need to leave.” 

  


Before either of them could say anything else, Yuuri brushed past Victor in a way that hurt more than anything that had happened that day. It was real, now, as he grabbed all the luggage he could stack on top of his biggest case and his carry ons. It was all too real. As he walked towards the door, he heard Victor take in a breath and couldn’t find it in him to continue. He owed Victor whatever he wanted to say, he owed him the world for what he was doing. 

  


“Don’t…” he almost whispered. “Don’t you love me, Yuuri?” 

  


Everything inside of Yuuri was screaming, as if he were set on fire in the middle of a desert. His mouth opened and shut as he physically had to stop himself from telling Victor that _yes_ , yes he loved Victor. He loved Victor more than he could ever dream of loving someone else. He loved Victor with all of his mind, body, and soul. It was so hard to lie to Victor, to look into those eyes and give him false illusions when he had given nothing but love and the truth. But this was the last part of the test, Yuuri thought. This was the thing he needed to do to make it all end. 

  


“Not enough.”

  


He couldn’t bear to give a last look towards the general direction of the man he loved and so he went, through the front door. The second the door was shut, Yuuri heard the Victor’s sobs, so loud that it filled Yuuri to the core. He heard his name whimpered time and time again and the painful sound of Victor’s knees hitting the tile. Yuuri covered his own mouth, trying to muffle his sobs as he heard Makkachin pawing at the door with a whine just as desperate as Victor’s. They were both broken, now, and Yuuri wanted to take it all away. He was a monster, disgusting and raging and everything evil, and Victor was anything but the free Yuuri wished him to be.

  


But he was safe. His Victor, his love and life, he was safe. And only at the cost of two hearts.

**Author's Note:**

> Henlo friendos! I hope that you enjoyed this fic as much as I enjoyed putting myself through misery writing it! If you'd like, please hit me up on [Tumblr](http://ruspunk.tumblr.com/) for friendship or one shot needs because I have too much time! Thank you so much for reading and any kudos or comments you give, it means more than I can express!


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